


dreams of better days

by greyskiesblack



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Sleeping Beauty Fusion, Alternate Universe - Vampire, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Vampires, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28217460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyskiesblack/pseuds/greyskiesblack
Summary: Once upon a time, Insomnia was a fabled city of dreams. Now its dreams are darker.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 9
Kudos: 12





	dreams of better days

**Author's Note:**

> title from Theatre of Tragedy's [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JYTqONSxnr8).

_Once upon a time, the fabled city of Insomnia was renowned for its everlasting light and beauty. A haven for artists and musicians, and everyone else in between, Insomnia drew visitors from all over the world to revel in its art and culture._

_But not all of those visitors had good intentions. A dark wizard skulked the shining streets with murderous intent for the city that had stolen his dreams and left him living in a nightmare. He devoted himself to mastering the darkest magics the world had ever known._

_And on a stormy night that rattled windows all throughout the city, from the crowded theatres to the towering Citadel, he harnessed the power of the lightning-streaked clouds and his malicious heart and cursed the city and all its inhabitants. They would never find the peace of eternal rest. They would never again know innocence and joy. And they would never see the golden light of day again._

_As the wicked power coursed through his body and devoured his very life, the wizard spat a final curse to the inhabitants of the tower. The King’s sweet boy, the kind and gentle prince the city was learning to adore, would become the most cursed of all._

_The wizard disintegrated into nothingness as his curse consumed the city. The storm raged. Winds howled. Lightning flashed and thunder cracked. And on that terrible night, the world lost its hope and light._

Insomnia. The sombre city that hasn’t slept for centuries. Its streets are lit by moonlight instead of the harsh yellow glare that Prompto is used to. He slinks down the quietly bustling main road trying to ignore the way his skin itches with the overwhelming sense of being watched. Every window seems to gleam like a watching eye. Eyes that can see straight into his soul and his mind. He stumbles over his own two feet and narrowly avoids crashing into a passer-by.

“Watch it.” The man hisses under his breath as he shoves past Prompto.

The accent sparks a memory that squeezes Prompto’s chest and forces the air out of his lungs. He’s drowning under glass. Water-blurred faces are peering at him. And then the glass shatters and a voice is speaking unintelligible words at him.

Prompto takes a deep breath and rubs at his face. The cool night air smells like dust. He’s not there anymore, he reminds himself. He’s in Insomnia, the city of eternal night. And he’s on a mission. He glances upwards to the crumbling skyline. He just has to keep going, one step at a time.

All the roads in Insomnia eventually lead to the Citadel. When Prompto squints up to see how high the building really goes he can’t tell where the night sky ends and where the building begins. Is that silver shine a distant star or just a light? There’s no way for him to tell.

Prompto expects an argument from the guards. He bristles as he steps towards the gleaming glass doors. But they ignore him as he takes one step and then another and then three more through the doorway and into the freezing cold foyer.

He glances back at them, preparing for the shout of alarm. But they’re still facing towards the road as though Prompto never passed them by. A shiver of unease scrapes down Prompto’s back. Something feels weird. A current in the air that makes his skin prickle and his shoulders twitch. But there’s no one but him in the gloomy foyer.

Prompto takes a deep breath that tastes even dustier than the streets outside. Maybe it’s just not a big deal to go look at the Prince. Maybe the Insomnians do it all the time.

The elevator dings as Prompto steps closer towards it. The doors open and a figure in black glides past him without their shoes even making a noise on the stone floor. Prompto shivers and steps into the looming elevator. He’s not sure if he wants to be here anymore. But he’s not sure where else he’d go if he wasn’t. The lab was destroyed, after all. All he has is the stranger’s dying words spat out between blood and rattling breaths. To tell the prince of Insomnia that Cor had fallen. Prompto wasn’t sure if it was a city or the man’s name or even the name of the lab, but he’d nodded and promised that he would. The man had smiled and patted Prompto’s head with a weak hand that dropped away as dead weight after a second. He’d left Prompto alone in that awful, terrible place. But alone was better than trapped. Right?

The elevator doors open and interrupt Prompto’s reminiscing. A long hallway with an open arched doorway. Was that where the prince was? Just lying at the top of some building with no one to keep watch? Prompto fidgets as he walks down the endlessly long corridor. How would the prince even _know_ that Prompto had told him anything? He was meant to sleep forever, right?

Beyond the doorway is a circular room with a raised dais in the middle. There’s no guards or seats or anything to break up the stark white walls or floor. The only thing to draw Prompto’s eye is the glass coffin in the middle of the room. The glass coffin with an unmoving and dark figure within.

Prompto rubs at his eyes and takes a shaky step forward. He promised. That meant something, right?

“H-Hello?” The word croaks out past the dust in his throat. He feels ridiculous and small as he steps up to the sleeping prince.

“I don’t know if you can hear me…” Prompto trails off as he looks down into the coffin. The prince looks more like a statue than a person. His skin is whiter than the walls around him and his hair and clothes are so black they seem to absorb the dim light of the room.

Prompto sucks in a breath. Is this what he’d looked like in his own glass coffin? Did that stranger have the same urge to break the glass with anything he could find, even if it meant breaking his hands, just to get him out? Prompto reaches out towards the prince’s face but stops before his fingertips touch the perfectly clear glass. He doesn’t want to smudge anything.

Prompto clears his throat awkwardly. “I told someone… I promised someone that I’d pass on a message to you…” He peers down at the prince but there’s no change or reaction. Not that Prompto really expected one. He’d heard the stories and rumours as he’d made his way here.

“Well, um.” Prompto takes a deep breath. His stomach is twisting with nerves and Prompto isn’t sure why. It’s not like the prince is going to sit up and break the glass and demand Prompto explain anything. He just has to repeat a message. “So the message…”

Prompto rubs at his face. He can’t stop thinking about the lab. The twisted tubes and the red liquid and the blood and the noise and the _smell_. And then the blinding snow and the crisp fresh air and how Prompto had wished he was still back in that glass tube because he’d never been so afraid before.

“Sorry.” Prompto mumbles. He takes a deep breath and steadies his nerves. “Someone said I had to tell you that Cor had fallen and I still don’t know if that was his name or something else but he rescued me and told me to tell you and I don’t know why because it’s not like you’re listening and I don’t know what I’m meant to do now but I told you so I guess that’s that.” The words rush out of him in one strained breath and Prompto feels a little lightheaded.

There’s no response from the prince. Of course not. He wasn’t some hero that could save the prince from eternal slumber the way he’d been saved. Prompto turns to leave and a wave of sudden exhaustion crashes over him. He stumbles over his feet and slides to the ground. The glass is cool against his back. He’s so tired. He just needs to sleep. Even if it’s in this strange room with this strange…

He’s standing in the same room. Except the glass coffin is gone. There’s a black throne in its place and a figure in black draped across it. A figure that lifts his head and stares at Prompto with glowing red eyes.

“What do you mean,” the figure rasps in a voice that scrapes down Prompto’s spine, “that Cor has fallen?”

Prompto rubs at his eyes. This is a dream. Some awful dream because he fell asleep in the tower right next to the prince.

There’s a loud sigh. “Answer the question.” The prince – or Prompto’s dream version of him, at least – has a voice like thunder.

Prompto swallows a squeak of fear. “Y-Yes. Um. He died?” Prompto’s voice cracks and he’s afraid to look up at the figure on the throne.

“Oh.” There’s another sigh. “Doing what?”

“Um.” Prompto risks a tiny peek. The prince is leaning his face against his hand and has his eyes closed. “Saving me?”

One of the eyes slits open. “Saving you from…?”

Prompto looks away at the pristine white floor. “Um, well. There was this laboratory in the snow and…” He can feel the red liquid in his throat and he coughs into his hand. He almost expects to see red on his hand, but there’s nothing there.

“Enough.” The prince stands and takes a step towards him. “I know of this place. He saved you? Only you?”

Prompto feels as though he’s being measured and found wanting. “I was the only one left,” he mumbles. “Sorry.” He stares at his dusty boots.

A swirl of black enters his vision and something icy cold touches his chin. Prompto jerks his face up and the prince is _right there_ in front of him.

“Why are you sorry?” The prince drops his hand back to his side.

“I… Um…” Prompto shrugs. “I don’t know.”

The prince frowns. “And you came all this way to tell me because Cor asked?”

“I… Yes? Was that his name?”

“Yes.” The prince turns and walks back to his throne. “You may leave.”

The edges of the room start to blur. “Wait!” Prompto squeaks out. “What about you?”

The blurring stops abruptly. “What do you mean, what about me?” The prince sounds almost… amused?

“Well.” Prompto looks down at his fidgeting hands. “Is this a dream?”

“Is it?” The prince shrugs. “Figure that one out on your own.” He lifts a pale hand and the room starts to blur once more.

“No, wait!” Prompto throws his hand up as if it can stop whatever fuzziness is going on. “Why didn’t he save you?”

There’s a pause. As if for one small second time stops. “Because he can’t.” The prince snaps.

And then just like that, Prompto has the strange feeling of being kicked out of a dream.

Prompto wakes up slowly. Was it a dream? He can still hear the prince’s voice in his head and see the terrible glow of those red eyes. He unsteadily gets to his feet and turns to look down at the statuesque prince.

He’s not sure if it’s his imagination or the remnants of the dream clouding his eyes, but it looks as though the prince is smirking at him.

“You are…” Prompto tries to think of the right word and settles on one he heard from one of the hunters outside the city. “You’re a _dick_.”

“Excuse me?” A voice snaps from behind him.

Prompto spins around so fast he feels dizzy. There’s a man in a black suit in the doorway to the room wearing glasses and a deep frown.

“Um. Nothing?” Prompto feels flustered.

The man raises an eyebrow. “So I didn’t just hear you call the cursed prince of Insomnia something wildly inappropriate?”

“No…?” Prompto chews at his bottom lip. Was the word so bad? Was he going to get executed for treason now?

The man huffs slightly. “Very well. Please, follow me.” He gestures for Prompto to leave the room.

“Follow you where?” Prompto glances back down at the prince. Is it just the light or is he smirking even more?

“Well, you’ll find out once we’re there.”

The man’s voice is like the icy snow and Prompto tears his gaze from the coffin and hurries across the room.

The man doesn’t speak as they ride the elevator down a few floors. Or as he leads Prompto down labyrinthine hallways. Prompto is too nervous to ask if he’s going to be locked up or executed or something even worse. By the time the man stops in front of a closed door, Prompto has convinced himself it’s the end.

“This will be your room.” The man gestures to the door. “While you’re here.”

Prompto blinks. Did he mishear? “My… room?”

The man pushes his glasses up his nose. “That is what I said, isn’t it?”

“But… um…” Prompto fidgets slightly. “Why?”

“Because the prince requested it.” The man bows and turns to walk down the hallway.

“Wait, what? Wait!” Prompto shouts after him, but the man doesn’t stop. Prompto wants to chase him down, but he’s also certain he wouldn’t be able to find his way back to this door.

Prompto glances at the doorknob. Twists it a few times. The room is unlocked and with no other real option, Prompto lets himself into the room and closes the door behind him.

It’s a nice enough room, Prompto supposes, though he doesn’t have much to compare it to. Just dingy motels he’d stayed at with his dwindling supply of coins pilfered from the man – Cor. There’s a small bathroom. A counter with a microwave over a tiny fridge. A bed. No windows, though there wouldn’t be much of a view. Just darkness and the pale lights of the city.

Prompto locks the door behind him and flops down on the bed. He’s exhausted. And confused. And filled with some awful yearning in his stomach that he’s pretty sure is only hunger and not some desire to storm back up to the prince’s coffin and bang on the glass until it breaks and find some answers. Because that would be ridiculous.

The bed smells like dust, but the pillows are thick and comfortable and the blankets on it are fuzzy and warm. Prompto kicks off his boots and squirms under them until he’s warm and cozy. He can just leave in the morning. Or whenever he wakes up. He doesn’t want to stay in this weird city any longer. But he’s also not sure what he’s meant to do now. And what did that guy _mean_ , that the prince requested he stay?

Prompto groans and burrows further under the blankets. He can figure it out later. When he’s not tired and hungry and confused. And the bed is so warm and comfortable…

“I can’t believe you called me a dick.” A dry voice rasps in the darkness.

Prompto opens his eyes and rubs blearily at them. The prince is on his throne, hunched forward and frowning at him.

“What’s going on?” Prompto croaks out. He’d been having a wonderful dream about… okay, he can’t remember. But it had been wonderful and now he’s back in this freezing cold room.

“Isn’t it obvious?” The prince leans back and spreads his arms. “The loophole of my curse.”

Prompto blinks. Stifles a yawn. “What?”

The prince rolls his eyes. “I’m cursed to sleep forever. What do sleeping people do? Dream. I figured out how to teleport other people into my dreams so I could talk to them.”

Prompto chews at his bottom lip. “Figured out, huh?”

The prince huffs. “It’s not like I had anything else to occupy my time.”

“Is that why I’m here?” Prompto tilts his head slightly. “To occupy your time?”

The prince narrows his eyes at Prompto. “And do you have somewhere else to be?”

Prompto looks away to the blank white walls. “Not exactly.”

The silence stretches on for a long minute before the prince speaks again. “I know what the laboratory was doing.”

“Do you?” Prompto’s voice is strained. What could he possibly know – he wasn’t there. He didn’t have to live through it. Live with it.

“I talked to Cor. For a minute before the connection snapped. About what he found.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Prompto’s voice sounds as though it’s coming from someone else. Someone far away.

The prince stands and comes towards him. Prompto takes a step back.

The prince scowls. “I don’t bite, you know.”

“That’s not what the stories say,” Prompto mutters before he can stop himself.

The prince arches an eyebrow in the same way as the guy in the suit did. “Oh? What do the stories say?” He leans closer to Prompto. “That I’m some bloodsucking demon of the night and my entire city is filled with people just like me?”

Prompto looks away and swallows. “Y-Yeah? Basically?”

“And here you come into my tower and bare your neck.” There’s a cold touch against Prompto’s skin and he flinches. “You’re lucky I’m not hungry.”

“Because you’re a bloodsucking demon of the night?” Prompto squeaks out.

“Obviously.” The prince takes a step back and sighs. “I apologise for disturbing your rest.” He lifts a hand.

“Wait.” Prompto shakes his head. He has so many things he wants to ask that he’s not sure which question to lead with. “I… This…” He swallows and meets the prince’s red-eyed gaze. “What’s your name?”

It is not the question Prompto meant to ask. The prince blinks in what seems like surprise.

“What’s yours?” The prince shoots back.

“Prompto. I think.” He shrugs and looks down. “That’s what was on…” He swallows. He doesn’t want to say it aloud. Doesn’t want to think about it. Won’t think about it.

A hand thrusts itself into his vision. Prompto looks up to see the prince giving him an expectant look. A hand…shake? Prompto had seen the hunters shake each other's hands. He slides his hand into the prince’s and tries not to shiver. It’s like holding snow in his hand, but even snow eventually melts.

“Noctis.” The prince says as he shakes Prompto’s hand once and then releases his grasp.

“How come that’s not in the stories?” Prompto asks.

“Because no one knows it.” The prince – Noctis – shrugs. “No one had much reason to remember it.”

“Oh.” Prompto doesn’t know what else to say.

Noctis raises his hand again. “Goodnight, Prompto.”

Hearing his name sends a raspy shiver down Prompto’s spine. “Goodnight, Noctis,” he says as the room blurs and fades away into darkness.

Prompto wakes up disoriented. It’s dark in his room and he fumbles for the light switch. He feels like he’s being watched. Inspected. The lights flicker on to reveal the unfamiliar room with nothing suspicious or out of place. Not that he has much to place. Just his backpack leaning against the far wall.

Prompto flops back onto the bed and covers his eyes with his forearm. His mind is spinning with dozens of questions he doesn’t even know where to begin trying to answer. Questions about Insomnia and the curse and the lab – maybe not the lab – and Noctis. And the prince had been right. Prompto doesn’t have anywhere else to go. Would it be so bad to stay here? Maybe he could find some answers...

His stomach growls and Prompto chews at his bottom lip. He’d looked in the fridge and the cupboard last night – well – before he went to bed and whatever time that had been. They’d been empty, and he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to find anything to eat. Or afford it. He’d spent his last few coins just getting to Insomnia. And even if he did find somewhere to eat, how was he supposed to find his way back to this room? Or would he get kicked out? Locked out of the Citadel and told to leave and never come back and-

There’s a sharp intrusive knock on the door. Prompto rubs at his face and leaps out of bed at the same time and almost ends up faceplanting on the floor. He recovers and opens the door to reveal the same suited man that had led him to the room in the first place.

“I’ve been informed that I ought to show you to the kitchen,” the man says dryly.

Prompto stares at him for longer than he knows is polite. “What?”

The man clears his throat. “Right. My name is Ignis, and I’m the prince’s right hand man. Which is supposed to be classified information, but I was overruled.”

Prompto rubs at his eyes. He just woke up but he already feels tired. “Is he… Is he spying on me?” It would explain the uncomfortable feeling of being watched.

The man – Ignis – eyes him for a minute. “No,” he finally says. “Our beloved prince is lacking in social graces, but he would not invade the privacy of a guest.”

Prompto isn’t sure if he believes this, but he shrugs. “Okay.”

“Yes.” The man adjusts his glasses and motions behind him. “Shall I show you to the kitchen?”

“I just need to put on my boots.” Prompto steps back to the bed and digs them out from under a tossed-away pillow. He sits on the edge of the bed and quickly laces them up as his stomach growls once more. The prince wouldn’t even need to be spying on him to hear that one.

Ignis leads Prompto through the twisting hallways and deposits him in a very small and surprisingly dusty kitchen. The stories Prompto heard on his way to Insomnia are disquieting whispers in his ears as he opens the cupboards and eyes the faded labels on the tins of food. Bloodsucking demons.

He turns to ask Ignis a question, but the man is gone. The door is shut. Prompto shivers in the cold air. Maybe the hunters he’d hitched a ride from were right. Maybe he really will end up as nothing more than monster food. He selects a tin at random and digs in the drawers for a can opener. At least there’s a microwave so he doesn’t have to eat cold beans.

He mulls things over while he eats. The yearning itch inside of him that aches for freedom seems to have abated, even though he’s fairly certain he’s just as trapped as he was a year ago. He wants to _know_ why the city is cursed with eternal darkness. He wants to know more about the red-eyed prince. And even if he does end up with his blood drained, isn’t that better than wandering into the wastes and dying to some stray monster? Isn’t it better to decide his own fate instead of being bound to someone else’s choice?

His fork scrapes the bottom of the tin can. Prompto stares at the congealing sauce and tries not to think too hard about just how _old_ those beans might have been. He stands up to rinse the can out. He _wants_ to stay, he realises as the cold water runs over his fingers. He wants it like he’d wanted a bigger fire and more warmth on his lonely, frost-bitten trek to civilisation after the lab. He tosses the can into the bin and then crosses to the closed door. Bigger questions will have to wait. The most pressing one now is: how _exactly_ is Prompto meant to find his room again?

**Author's Note:**

> i started nanowrimo this year with grandiose plans for tackling my dusty pile of wips and finishing all the stories i'd started and all the stories i hadn't yet told.  
> instead i wrote this and then sat on it for weeks, because how can i return to my beloved fandom with _yet another_ story i probably won't finish? but [i hope](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lfksYyxGRJw) that 2021 will be different.


End file.
